Being Bolshoi in the Bay

I'm excited that tonight's performance of the Bolshoi Ballet in Brisbane will be shown as a live simulcast at Hervey Bay's Seafront Oval. And best of all, it's free!

Image used courtesy of Qpac - the Queensland Performing
Arts Centre, where the ballet is being performed.

I've seen a number of opera and ballet live simulcasts in London before, with picnic and blanket in prime position outside my old office in Canary Wharf. Getting the opportunity to see Russia's elite perform Le Corsaire along with the Queensland Symphony Orchestra is a great opportunity. The Bolshoi haven't been to Australia in almost 20 years and Le Corsaire has never been performed in Australia before. Having access to events like these is definitely a SilverLining on my relocation!

I'll be bringing my Mum (aka Bubba, one of the Grandparentals) to see the Bolshoi's largest and most expensive ballets, from the comfort of a blanket and chairs, while we sip on some wine and nibble on a picnic. Why not bring your own and come join us?!

Date:  Today, 4th June 2013
Time:  Live coverage from 7:00pm, performance starts at 7:30pm
Venue: Seafront Oval, corner of Main Street and The Esplanade, Pialba
Cost:  FREE!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Bay Beats is on!

The inaugural Fraser Coast Music Fest has started! There's a great line-up, hope to see you there...

 

While it's too late to effuse about Frank Benn, I'll definitely be in front of Stage 1 for Forbidden Road, Arcade Vandals, The Bobkatz and Dogwood Crossing. Come find me and Pickle!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

 

Bay Beats

There's a music festival coming to Hervey Bay! I thought my days of attending easily accessible day or weekend long music festivals was left long behind me in London. So the inaugural Fraser Coast Music Fest on Sunday 2nd June, 2013 is a definite SilverLining in Pickle's and my new simplified life. Even better, it's FREE!

The day will be filled with music by local bands and artists across three stages. I've been somewhat - pleasantly - surprised at the level of home-grown talent. I've been lucky enough to see a number of performances in the five months since I moved to Hervey Bay, particularly enjoying Frank Benn, Dogwood Crossing and Sam Hutchinson, who will all be performing at the festival.

I'll definitely be taking Pickle along, as he loves listening to music, and it promises to be a family friendly event. There will also be stalls, rides, a kids activities tent, a car show, food, a bar, and a laser-light show finale, so it sounds like there's something for everyone. Tell your friends - if this year's event is a success, there are plans to expand it to a two-day festival next year... See you there!

Location:  Seafront Oval, cnr Charlton Esplanade and Main Street, Pialba (Hervey Bay)
Date:  Sunday, 2nd June, 2013
Time:  9:00am to 9:15pm

Are there any other local bands or artists I should be keeping an eye out for?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

This is not a sponsored post.


UPDATE:  Arcade Vandals are through to the Grand Final of Last Band Standing (battle of the bands) and are confirmed for the festival.  I've been told they're a good band to watch, as is Auraview (also through to the Grand Final).
Anyone know if Auraview will be at the festival?

Introspection (Tough Times)

I'm very good at keeping myself busy. Busy enough that I don't have time for self-reflection. Not blogging much in February - not even my Project 365 photos - is another way to avoid this, as I find blogging carthartic.

However yesterday, my work day, I sat down to answer a number of emails and also do some blog work that had me writing openly and honestly. And last night I had a proper cry.

The past year has been tough.

This time in 2012, I was midway through a two month trip from the UK to Australia. Sounds idyllic, right? But travelling on my own with a baby was nerve racking. The idea of it was far worse than the reality, though I didn't get much sleep in the 36-hours of door-to-door travel.

We visited Sydney, Hervey Bay, Sydney again, then Perth. All in all, there were seven flights. Pickle is a well-travelled munchkin. The last week in Perth with the Outlaws, was some of the most relaxing. Though I was still paranoid about my Mother-in-law judging me, not least when a newly mobile Pickle bumped his head on the coffee table. True to form (from my experience, not the stereotype), my MiL was über supportive and basically told me there would be lots more bumps and bruises and to let him get on with it.

So two days after arriving back in London, my then husband BoyWonder, announced that he no longer wanted to be married. This in it's own right was stressful as I'm sure you'd understand. But I still hoped we'd work things out. It wasn't to be, and our relationship counselling turned into divorce counselling on the second visit. Those fortnightly appointments were stressful too.

Meanwhile, remember I'm still raising an active and demanding baby.

So divorce proceedings with the ensuing paperwork, resigning from my job and explaining why, planning a relocation across the world... All while living in the same house as my ex; all stressful events right?

Don't get me wrong, BoyWonder and I have had the most amicable divorce of anyone I know - with the possible exception of my brother and his wife, who still run a business together. They were certainly our inspiration, but I doubt anyone wants to compete for that award.

I'm thankful every time I hear another divorce drama story. And there have been quite a few of those.

Leaving my adorable friends was certainly stressful. I miss them regularly. I've luckily made a few good friends already in Hervey Bay, but they can't replace the ones, in my heart, that I left behind.

Arriving to a "fresh start" (and remembering the 36-hours of travel with a now-toddler) wasn't quite what I'd anticipated.

I've struggled how to address the difficulties I've encountered, as it's not necessarily my story to tell. So I will cut to the chase and just say that, after an immense amount of additional and extremely unexpected stress, Pickle and I ended up living in emergency accommodation a week before Christmas. I'm lucky it was a house and not share accommodation - I'm really not sure how I would have coped with that (SilverLining anyone?!).

Trying to find rental accommodation was far more difficult than I'd imagined. It was just the wrong time of year and very few places were listed. It came down to the wire, as the emergency accommodation was only for ten weeks - I moved out the day before expiration.

I'd ordered a cargo bike as a car replacement. There were months worth of dramas there, which deserves it's own post and will arrive in due course. I'm starting from scratch on that front.

My shipping from the UK has been in the country since 5th January, but still hasn't been delivered. After chasing yet again, I found out yesterday that it's now "probably" due Monday. Which means I've had to reschedule appointments and don't have any childcare for Pickle.

Oh and I've got a frozen shoulder - an increasing interference and a painful one at that. Chiropractic treatment and one cortisone injection later (I've had to reschedule the second injection due to the imminent shipping delivery), I'm still in pain and I sometimes feel like I'm haemorrhaging money.

So that, in a nutshell, has been the past eleven months.

Yet, I'm still - relatively - positive. I'm enjoying a simplified life. I'm actioning my career change. Pickle has started day-care one day a week (hence my work day). I'm ready for him to be in day-care, which I certainly wasn't six months ago.

Sure, it's hard work being a single Mummy. I often don't get a break until an hour or so after he's gone to bed. But after washing up, folding laundry, putting his toys away, etc., I can have quality me-time. Or - most likely - quality vegging time.

And quite frankly, Pickle is frigging amazing.

So enough self indulgent rambling from me. Time to finger paint...

Cheers, KangaRue

Happy 2013! (1/365)

I'm not a fan of New Year's Eve. Something always seems to go wrong, sometimes catastrophically. I've had one New Year's Eve that I truly enjoyed from start to finish, in 2008, and included some of my favourite people in the world, having a murder mystery dinner at home. But it was the exception that proved the rule.

Having had a pretty challenging year (some of my friends say I can be the queen of understatement), I'm keen for the fresh start a flip of a new calendar seems to bring.  I mean, we've even moved across the world, to start a new life, just the two of us. This hasn't been without its own challenges, not least being the seemingly un-Australian level of bureaucracy I've encountered (but that's another story all together).

To kick start our New Year, I decided to cook a fry-up for breakfast. Fresh eggs from the Grandparentals neighbour, with decent Aussie bacon, polished off with a hunk of delicious watermelon. What I hadn't considered was our lack of cooking utensils. Most of our stuff is still en-route from the UK.

Have you ever tried to get a fried egg out of not a non-stick pan without a spatula?

I managed to get Pickle's out - his breakfast was perfect. My egg cracked as I was getting it out of the pan, but managed to make it to the plate still runny. So while it wasn't perfect, it was pretty darn close. If this is a metaphor for our year ahead, I'll be happy with it.

So on that note... Happy New Year!

I've realised that if I'd had the right tools, my breakfast would have been perfect too... so what do you consider to be the right tools for a happy life?

Cheers, KangaRue

PS. My Project 365 went kaput last year for obvious reasons, so I'm going to keep it pretty basic this year and see how I go - wish me luck?

Head in the Sand

So the removalists have gone.  Accounts are being closed.  I'm almost packed. There is definitely an air of finality.

BoyWonder doesn't understand how I didn't realise things were bad before.

Perhaps my head was in the sand.  He neither came to my initial gynaecologist appointment, when I found out I was pregnant with Pickle, nor the 12-week scan, which was truly amazing, especially when Pickle did a somersault in-utero. 

Glaringly obvious signs in hindsight, though I know that some men just don't get "it". (Whatever "it" is, but I expect that's a whole other blog post.)

So right now, while we've metaphorically battered heads on occasion, but still generally get on well, it's just time to be a little sad.  I just need to remind myself that there are new beginnings and exciting adventures ahead for Pickle & I.

Divorce Solicitor & 4th Wedding Anniversary

If you'd asked me on my wedding day, what I thought I would be doing for my fourth wedding anniversary, it wouldn't have been "initiating a divorce".  And yet, that is how I spent the morning.

I didn't expect to feel physically ill as I prepared to leave home to head to the appointment.  Though once there, I was more worried about entertaining Pickle and providing the correct documentation.

I did spare a thought to the recent Divorce Counselling session, where our counsellor asked us how we'd be celebrating.  WTF?!  I know we want to stay friendly, but you don't celebrate a marriage when you're getting divorced.  At least BoyWonder thought the comment was as bonkers as I did.

And my SilverLining as my darling friends have reminded me, is a "new beginning".

Am I being harsh? Should I be cooking something special for dinner!

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Quite frankly, I'm hoping my SilverLining is somewhere very close over the rainbow... but for now I'm having some crappy days.  Wednesday was a good day, and hopefully tomorrow will be a good day too.  I've been quiet on the blogging front, so hopefully this post will explain why, on top of the usual being a Mummy, study and life in general excuses.

A couple of days after Pickle and I returned from Oz, BoyWonder* said he wanted a divorce.  (Nothing like burying the lead, hey).  I've been trying to work things out, but he's adamant that he's felt like this for some time and can't move beyond how he feels.  We tried two sessions of couples counselling, and while my goal is to work through our problems, build on our friendship and reconcile, his goal is for an amicable divorce, so there's not a lot for the counsellor to work with.

I'm pissed at him.  I think he's a numpty and will regret it down the track.  And that's being kind.  I'm angry, but most of all I'm sad.  I've been dealing with a good dose of denial as well - it's actually been months since this happened, and I guess I was hoping he'd change his mind, see the error of his ways or whatever.  I'm doing a good job of working my way through Kubler-Ross' stages of grief.

I had depression about four years ago.  It was my second time.  Most people who get depression will get it more than once.  BoyWonder* blames my depression for the downturn in our relationship and his subsequent depression.  It's an illness, you have to have a predisposition to it, a bit like diabetes say.  Believe me, I've argued 'til I'm blue in the face that I can't be blamed.  And I'll be the first to put my hand up to say I didn't pull my weight around the house when I was depressed.  But when he's running through a list of any and all of my failings from the past seven years of our relationship, it's no wonder it's not worked.

His inability to communicate is a major factor - he has one friend who he's been completely honest with, but talking to me a couple of years ago might have helped.  He admits he hasn't been successful either in opening up or when he has, not doing it successfully.  My lack of realisation just goes to show there's a reason people don't counsel those they know.

When we first started going out, within the first three months in fact, I pointed out our age difference (he's 9 years younger than me) and how I really wanted kids and eventually wanted to move back to Australia.  We agreed on the fundamentals.  Since then, BoyWonder* has changed his mind, or was previously only telling me what I wanted to hear.  I was naive enough to believe it.

And while I am trying to have a balanced, non-snarky post here (not least because my lovely in-laws might read this), he's starting to sound a bit like Mother-bloody-Teresa.  He's made some really horrible comments recently... mind you, I've stropped back with "you'll be rid of me soon enough" as well, so not my finest moment.  Thankfully they've been the exception to the rule, and I believe I've (generally) dealt with them in a calm and adult way.  But FFS, he's leaving me.  A little snark is surely allowed?

He wants to stay friends, and I think that will be possible, if we can get through the crappy stuff quickly.  We're trying to do the divorce bit as amicably as possible.  It would be good to stay friends in the long term, as he's still Pickle's Daddy, and we both want what is best for Pickle.

For now, that will mean Pickle, the cats and I move back to Australia in the near future; to be closer to our families, and at least in the same country as the friends I consider close enough to be family.  It will unfortunately mean leaving a few of my really close friends here who I love dearly, and who have been a great support.  I'm crying while I'm typing this now.  In the library.  Nice.

It will of course mean leaving BoyWonder* in the UK too.  We will set up regular Skype times for Pickle, but it won't be the same.  Down the track there will be visits.  We'll sort it out.  It won't be easy, but hopefully there will be a SilverLining.  Cross your fingers for me, OK?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

* well that pseudonym is going to have to change isn't it!  Alternate suggestions welcome, but Pickle's Daddy (PD) might have to suffice for now.

PS.  If you are family or friends reading this post, and this is how you found out, I hope you can forgive the mode of communication - quite frankly, it's exhausting to talk about.

58/366 - Aussie Kids are Weet-Bix Kids

So after Pickle's debacle with cow's milk, we're now trying rice milk.  My lovely friend, chef Chaz, has been trying to get me to try it for years, but I hate soya milk, and thought it would be the same sort of thing so avoided it.  But after Pickle's reaction, trying something different wasn't an option, so this morning he had Weet-Bix with rice milk and he loved it (and the surprising SilverLining is I like the rice milk too!).

Baby-led weaning is, shall we say, a little messy - but he was using the spoon and his hands and wolfed it down.  Sure, a fair amount ended up over his face, up his arms, in his ears etc etc, but it makes a good photo!!

58/366 - 27 Feb 2012

Aussie kids are Weet-Bix kids after all!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

50/366 - Aunty Sharni & Uncle Steven

Sharni and Steven are two of my closest friends, who I consider family.  I met Steven when he came to crash on my floor in London - he'd met Joe travelling in New Zealand.  We hit it off, while he struggled to keep up with my tour of the London sights - I was on crutches on the time and he's over 6 foot tall.  I still consider him my baby brother though.  I met the lovely Sharni through a London flatmate, we hit it off immediately and have been fast friends ever since.  I tried introducing these two in London, but they say timing is everything.  On an later trip to Oz, when I was staying with my parents, they both came to visit - their trips only overlapped a couple of days, but the sparks were flying within minutes.  I was thrilled when they became a couple and eventually married, two of my favourite people in the world together.  So Sharni is not only my best friend, but my Sister-in-Law by adoption I suppose!

Needless to say, I was excited about introducing them to Pickle.  I think he likes them too, what do you think?

50/366 - 19 Feb 2012

I adore this picture!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Update:  
This is my favourite picture this week because Pickle just looks so cute and is also fascinated by Steven.  Take a look at all my other Project365 posts.  Each Sunday you can link up to the weekly favourites at TheBoyandMe's blog by clicking on this button below:  

An Aussie Brunch

Bill Granger's restaurants are a Sydney institution, so I was excited to learn he was opening a restaurant in London.  Particularly well-known for brunch, it wasn't hard to decide what time of day to visit Granger & Co.  We arrived around 9:30am on Saturday, to a crowded, yet airy room.  I think we timed it well, as a six-seated table had just become available - I was brunching with BoyWonder, my darling friend Caroline and her husband Dave, and our babies Pickle & Lulah; it was popular venue for other parents as well, as there were a large number of other prams and carriers in sight.

We started with juices - a freshly squeezed orange juice, an elderflower cordial and a homemade lemonade were well received.  While delicious, BoyWonder's sunrise smoothie was a little on the small side, and at £3.50, I would have expected it to be at least twice its size.

I struggled to decide between two dishes for my meal, but eventually, I couldn't go past Bill's famous sweetcorn fritters.  Served with fresh baby spinach, a lightly cooked tomato and a slice of bacon, it was well-seasoned and delicious.  This dish could be improved by a bit more generosity of bacon, as it only comes with one slice.

An unfortunate theme, as the boys discovered with their Full Aussie breakfasts. An enormous portion of creamy scrambled eggs is accompanied by delicious sourdough toast, mushrooms and tomato, but only three chipolata sausages and another single slice of bacon.  A third less egg with one extra slice of bacon and two more teeny sausages would have seen them far happier.  Unfortunately, BoyWonder discovered a bone-shard in one of his chipolatas.  The first waiter he brought this to the attention of was, quite frankly, useless - he said "oh, OK" and wandered off.  The service up to this point had been relaxed, if a little slow - but it was a weekend brunch, so we weren't in a rush.  But that was a little too relaxed.  So he requested to see the manager. She apologised, spoke to the chef and returned saying they'd bring it to their supplier's attention.  He was then offered a complimentary coffee in apology.  We suggested dessert would be more appropriate (but more on that in a bit, as it was our SilverLining).

The soft boiled eggs with sour dough toast was enjoyed, but as it does what it says on the box, there's not much more I can say here.

BoyWonder decided to get a coffee.  Now in past posts, I've detailed that he is, shall we say, particular about his coffee.  He wasn't disappointed with his long black - it was rich, intense and full of flavour.  None of the dreaded burn.  Aussies know how to make coffee.

For dessert, we agreed to indulge (sensibly by sharing) the ricotta pancakes with honeycomb butter, banana and maple syrup.  And, oh my!  They were delicious - definitely the hit of the day.  The ricotta lends a creaminess that balances the sweetness brilliantly; the honeycomb butter is a delight.  I would definitely order this as my main dish next time, with a side of bacon (hopefully more than one slice!).  So yes, why there were some issues, I will be back, and would recommend popping over to Notting Hill for breakfast or brunch soon.

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Opening the Pickle Jar or Out Through the Sun-Roof

There is so much negativity surrounding the birthing process - all forms of media cite the pain of childbirth and mothers try to out-do each other with the horror stories of their labour.  HypnoBirthing endeavors to act as a counterpart reaction to this; with deep relaxation, breathing and meditation techniques the birthing process doesn't need to filled with screams and writhing in pain.

Months of reading Marie Mongan's HypnoBirthing and listening to her CD, and attending HypnoBirthing classes with Dany at Tums2Mums, and listening to her mp3s, had me looking forward to a calm, natural birth.  The techniques I'd learned had already helped with the SPD pain I was experiencing, so I was confident they would also be useful during the birthing process.

My due date came and went.  I always thought the date was wrong, and my hunch was that Pickle would arrive two weeks early.  Hastily I booked my bump photo shoot for week 37 with Harriet of Buckingham Photography (future blog to follow on both this and the baby shoot, though you can see some pics already here and here) and BoyWonder and I also did a bump casting at home.  Then I waited, but was surprisingly not terribly impatient, despite my growing enormity.  I figured (thanks to the HypnoBirthing teachings) that Pickle would arrive when Pickle was good and ready.

I "grew" for another
6-weeks after this!

Then, the Thursday during week 42 (i.e. 2 weeks after my "due date"), a nurse suggested induction.  On the spot.  BoyWonder was at work, so I declined, and said I'd come back on the Sunday if necessary.  With BoyWonder's birthday on the Saturday, I thought we'd wait to see how things progressed naturally.  I had a feeling things would start happening any day now, so after chatting to Dany that evening, I went to bed as usual.

1:28am I awoke with a start.  That was not a Braxton Hicks (practice birthing sensations).  I waited to see if it happened again.  Sure enough it came pretty quickly, so I woke BoyWonder up, and received a "oh, ok... can I go back to sleep now?".  Umm, no, we have to time them.  My surges (contractions in HypnoBirthing-speak) were coming five to five-and-a-half minutes apart.  Another request to go back to sleep from BoyWonder, and he lobbed his phone at me to time my surges.  Now, I was trying to use HypnoBirthing techniques and listen to Dany's calming voice on my laptop, so coming out of a relaxed state to press a freaking button on a phone was not particularly helpful.  But I was calm enough, and soon got fed up laying in bed.  So I got up to get a top out of the dryer* that I wanted to wear to hospital, and decided to phone my Mum in Australia at the same time.  By now my surges were about four minutes apart, and I chatted away to my Mum after telling her I was having her grand-baby.  I did get quiet every now and again during our half-hour or so call, and was doing pregnancy yoga moves along with my Hypno breathing.  Eventually, when my surges were coming between two-and-a-half and three minutes apart, I told Mum I should call the hospital and she hastily despatched me!

I woke BoyWonder up again, he phoned the hospital and they told us to come in.  Not before I had a shower, as I had no idea how long it would be until I got the next one.  So we both showered and dressed and drove the few minutes up the road at around 3:30am.

My birth plan detailed an active birth (using the pregnancy yoga moves I had learnt) followed by a relaxed and calm water birth using deep relaxation.  But first an examination was required to monitor Pickle and see how dilated I was.  Apparently I was only around 2cm (10cm is when the baby is ready to emerge), however the midwives were concerned with Pickle's heartbeat.  While it's natural for a baby's heartbeat to slow during a surge (or contraction), Pickle's was taking a while to recover after each, which could indicate that he was getting distressed.  A doctor was called.  To say she was abrupt would be the understatement of the century.  I wasn't allowed to sit on the yoga ball, stand, squat or lie on my side.  Instead I had to lay flat on my back - the most unnatural way for a woman giving birth, and one that increases discomfort considerably.  Not once did the doctor ever look me or BoyWonder in the face - she sort of just gazed in the middle of us while telling us what was going to happen.

During all of this, the surges were coming every two minutes or so, and I kept with the Hypno techniques and breathing.  I registered with amusement, one of the midwives saying "she's so quiet".  They would ask me "are you having another one" and I would nod.

BoyWonder - despite his initial reserve at having his sleep interrupted - came through wonderfully and questioned the doctor about changing my position, and then about what would happen if we waited ten or fifteen minutes before the sweep; then the breaking my waters.  I said it was OK to go ahead, and he checked I was sure - this is all part of the HypnoBirthing training, and it meant I felt in control of the process, and didn't feel pressured (mind you, the doctor wasn't best pleased).  And let me assure you, neither procedure is one I'd choose unnecessarily!  When neither procedure produced the results the doctor was looking for, she suggested an emergency Cesarean-section.  Now this really wasn't on the birth plan!  BoyWonder asked again what would happen if we waited even ten minutes, but I could hear Pickle's heartbeat and said it was OK, we needed to do what was best for the baby.  As long as I didn't have to have a general anesthetic.  I'd previously had an anesthetic consultation and the anesthetist at the time had insisted that is what I would need due to my previous back issues.  However, the lovely anesthetist that was present on the day said an epidural would suffice.

So off I was wheeled to be prepped for surgery.  BoyWonder was gowned.  I was tilted on a bed so the weight was on my left side to avoid the main vein that links to the placenta and also so my feet were raised which I think is supposed to help my blood pressure.  BoyWonder was seated on my right, so I really had to twist to see him.  I could feel tugging and pulling, but nothing else.  I kept using the breathing and visualisation exercises throughout.  And chatted to BoyWonder and the anesthetist when I felt like it.  The other medical professionals discussed music downloads amongst themselves.

Finally Pickle was out - it was 6:28am on Friday 19th August 2011, a mere five hours since I'd first awoken.  Though I still couldn't see past the sheet that had been placed in front of me, BoyWonder had a peek and discovered Pickle was a him!  Next on my birth plan was immediate skin-to-skin and breastfeeding.  But Pickle had been distressed and was covered in meconium (basically he'd pooed a little on the way out).  So BoyWonder got to hold him briefly while I caught a glimpse of his adorable little face out of the corner of my eye, but I loved him instantly.  I wasn't quite prepared for the depth or intensity.  And then they whisked him away as his breathing was a little fast (inhaling meconium can cause respiratory issues) to place him under a heat lamp and monitor him for a while.

I headed to recovery, and must have drifted off briefly, as the time seemed to whiz by - I was taken to the ward, what seemed like minutes later, but was almost two hours.  My little boy was brought to me about 15 minutes later, but it seemed like much longer; I finally got skin-to-skin contact with him just before 8:30am.  He was closely monitored, and at 2am that first night, he was whisked away as his breathing was still a little too quick.  His blood gases were checked, and I think it was something about not enough CO2 that required him to be taken to the Special (Intensive) Care unit.  I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach when they took him away from me; when the bought him back at 5am, I had the same physical reaction, but because I was so glad he was back with me - I can't even begin to comprehend how families cope with babies in there long term.

BoyWonder wasn't aware I was taking
this shot at the time  (in fact, I'm not
sure he's even seen this photo!) , he
was  completely entranced with Pickle,
which was lovely 

So while my birth plan - for all intents and purposes - was shredded and thrown to the wind, both the HypnoBirthing techniques and pregnancy yoga moves I learned, were invaluable and I'd highly recommend it to any Mums-to-be.  I'm not going to say that there wasn't discomfort, but my experience of the surges that were coming every two minutes while intense, were manageable.

I really wanted to breastfeed, and it was tricky at first - I had to express colostrum (the thick yellow liquid that comes before the milk) into a syringe a millilitre at a time.  Pickle latched on really well, but he didn't know he had to suckle.  It took us a couple of days (and one very long night), but with two fantastic breastfeeding support workers at the hospital (thankfully one on the day shift and one on the night), who were able to show me different holds and provide practical and supportive help, I persevered and Pickle finally "got it" the second night.  And that was another long night as all he wanted to do was catch up on the food he'd been missing!

As for the C-section... I've no idea why anyone would want to do one electively.  I understand if there are medical reasons behind it, but jeez, it's major surgery and has a much longer recovery period.  I was bed-bound with a catheter for the first 24 hours.  The SilverLining of this is that I got to avoid the meconium poos, and BoyWonder or the nurses changed those!  But the act of sitting up and then turning to pick Pickle up from the bassinet next to the bed was difficult and painful - I had to call the nurses if he was crying to be fed the first couple of days, or if they weren't quick enough, would struggle to do it myself.  Of course, BoyWonder helped me when we got home.  And this goes on for weeks.  Neither of us was prepared for how little sleep you get with a newborn!  But somehow your body just adjusts to cope.  It helps that Pickle is so darn cute the rest of the time!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

PS. For the record, though I thought Pickle was a boy from the day I found out I was pregnant, we never actually knew... think I must have inherited my Mum's white witch abilities.

*my friend Caroline had a dream that night that I was doing laundry and went into labour... perhaps she's got a bit of white witch in her too?

The Pickling Process

Photo used with permission.

I feel like I had an easy pregnancy with Pickle, though with hindsight, it did have its tricky moments.

I came off the contraceptive pill in August 2010.  And then... nothing.  I wee'd on a stick a couple of months later, but it came up negative, so I went to the doctor to say that my periods hadn't returned and was told to be patient.  In my late 30s, and with patience never my strong suit, this was difficult to say the least.  So off to Australia on a planned holiday BoyWonder and I  went (along with my brother Wayne).  It was a surprise for my Mum and this, along with my parents wedding vow renewal, TV cameras in tow, deserves a blog post of its own.  One day, while walking on the beach, my Mum asked if I was sure I wasn't pregnant and I'm pretty sure I snapped back at her in frustration (sorry Mum!).  Back to London, and back to the doctors; it was now 11 weeks since I came off the pill and I still hadn't had a period.  A different doctor tried to put me off by telling me to come back at the three month mark... which would have been the following week, so having private health insurance, I pushed for a referral on spot.

The following week, I went to see the loveliest doctor.  He planned to do three investigations that day, but after the internal exam (not the most comfortable experience!), he switched the process around to do the internal ultrasound.  "I can see why you're not having your period" he said.  I held my breath imaging him saying polyps, cysts etc.  "You're about 7 weeks pregnant".  How I sat up from the position I was in I don't know, but I was thrilled and more than a little stunned - I really had imagined the worst.  And I do consider myself lucky to have become pregnant so quickly, as I've had a number of friends struggle with various difficulties.

The next thing was to keep quiet... probably my next greatest failing after patience!!  We held out until Christmas to tell our parents and a few close friends.  And just made it to the 12-week mark before telling work.  While I felt really tired to start with, I barely had any morning sickness, just the occasional day of nausea.  Again, I count myself lucky; one of my close friends threw up every morning of her first pregnancy, except for a week right in the middle.

So on I pottered, getting bigger.  I actually lost weight the first trimester, which I'm sure was due to not only being more conscious of what I was eating, but cutting out alcohol.

Then one day, at around the half-way mark, I was walking through Soho when I slipped on a grape that had been dropped to the pavement.  I went flying, but the worst of my injuries appeared to be a badly scrapped knee.  I still bear a large scar.  My lower back hurt, but I didn't think much of it.

Unfortunately, the lower back pain got worse.  I have a great Osteopath, so went to see him.  After a few treatments, when I realised that the pain wasn't so much in my back, as in my hips and across my pelvic bone, he diagnosed Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (SPD).  Pregnancy hormones help loosen the ligaments and joints in order to gain room for the baby to grow and for the actual birth.  In some cases, the loosening can happen too soon and/or too much - in my case it was both, likely brought on by my slip and aggravating a prior injury.  The ligament that joins the pelvic bone at the front was over-stretching and tearing.  SPD isn't common, and isn't particularly well known.  It probably helped that my Osteo is married to a midwife, and he suggested a Maternity Support Belt - not exactly the sexiest thing alive, but it helped.  My GP had been fairly unhelpful up to this point, just putting it down to regular pregnancy heaviness, though he did later refer me to the hospital physiotherapist; my appointment was lost twice and the third appointment was eventually scheduled for after Pickle's due date.

I was - quite frankly - in agony.  I only realise how bad it was now that I'm no longer in constant pain.  I struggled to walk, and stairs were extremely difficult.  Getting up out of a chair was a struggle - and this was before the third trimester "I've swallowed a watermelon" ensued.  Living in a Victorian Terrace, which was also undergoing renovations, was less than a joy.  If I left something upstairs it generally stayed there, or I'd ask BoyWonder to go and get it.  While he was understanding, he couldn't really comprehend the extent of the pain, and eventually got fed-up with my constant requests.  Now that I will happily go and grab something from upstairs he has realised I wasn't 'putting it on'.

While Transport for London kindly supply "Baby on Board" badges, there is a certain person - generally young, male and wearing a suit - who will spot the badge and proceed to avoid eye contact at all cost.  I'm aware this is a sweeping generalisation, and was indeed offered seats by young men wearing suits during my pregnancy, but the number that fit the stereotype was laughable.  Early on in my pregnancy, I stood right in front of one of these guys, who was also sitting in a priority seat.  While I felt able to stand most days at this point in my pregnancy, I was getting a hot flash; it was -2 degrees Celsius outside, but I started stripping hat, gloves and scarf off and was fanning myself.  Eventually I had to ask to sit down (there was a little old lady sitting next to him and I wasn't going to oust her from her seat!).  He got up, but would it have killed him to offer?  I gulped down my bottle of water I'd thankfully brought from home - I think I would have fainted if I hadn't sat down at that point.  Standing on public transport with SPD though was ridiculous - I went three stops on the tube one day, and the act of balancing aggravated my pelvis so badly I was bed-ridden the following day.  Out of necessity, I would be the one saying "excuse me would you mind if I sat down?" to someone youngish and healthy looking.  I only had one person say no - well actually, the middle aged guy shouted "what, what!" in my face, and the chavvy looking guy sitting next to him that I thought would be unreceptive, hastily offered me his seat.

Years ago, my friend Joe studied hypnotherapy in London before returning to Australia.  At the time he mentioned that one day when I was pregnant, I would have to look into hypnotherapy for giving birth.  When telling him about Pickle, I asked him about it again.  He gave me a few questions to ask, which freaked out the first consultant I contact whose response was, shall we say, less than positive.  Luckily, I discovered Dany from Tums2Mums on Twitter, who was happy to answer my questions, and offered to meet BoyWonder and I prior to signing up for a HypnoBirthing course (which we started the following week).  The techniques and mp3s Dany provided not only helped me to remain calm and focused during the birthing process (more on that in a later post), but also for the remainder of my pregnancy AND helped with pain control for the SPD.  I was doing Pilates and yoga prior to becoming pregnant, and continued these for the duration of my pregnancy, which I'm sure helped with focus and calm... the latter not necessarily being one of my most natural states.

Photo used with permission.

I did end up on crutches for the last month of my pregnancy, but regardless of this, and other than the pins and needles that appeared in my hand, and the day I partially lost my eyesight for a couple of hours with subsequent headaches, and the cankles I was lumbered with towards the end, I still consider myself lucky to have had a relatively easy pregnancy, with my SilverLining no doubt being the gorgeous little boy that I am very thankful for.

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Stressed much?

I've been lucky so far with my pregnancy, I fell pregnant pretty quickly (at the "geriatric" age of 37) and have had very little "morning" sickness etc, etc.

A couple of weeks ago I woke up with pins and needles in the fingers of my right hand.  6 hours later they finally went.  In the interim I jumped onto Twitter and asked if anyone else had experienced it - a couple of people asked if it was pregnancy related... bizarre, "how are pins and needles in my fingers pregnancy related?" I thought.  Apparently it is - having then searched online, I found out that sleeping on my back (which I had that night), can cause it.  Sleeping on my left hand side has alleviated it - if it kept happening, apparently a wrist splint may have helped.

So when on Saturday I got spots before my eyes, that increasingly got larger, started flashing and then went to blur (I could only see half of BoyWonder's face when I looked at him), I only slightly freaked.  And then the headaches - on and off since - kicked in.  Jumping online I worried that it could be pre-eclampsia.  Had any of these symptoms lasted for more than a couple of hours at a time, I was prepared to go to the hospital, but they didn't, so first thing on Monday I went to the GP.

The GP tested both my blood pressure and urine, both of which were normal.  But he was concerned, so he sent me to the emergency eye clinic at Queen Mary's Hospital.  Spending over four hours in the hospital to be told a doctor couldn't see me that day was frustrating, so I headed back first thing this morning, this time organised with books to read.  Which was a pointless effort, as they nurses soon put drops in my eyes that, once the stinging wore off, had the world in a complete blur!

After further examination, it turns out that it's likely a type of migraine.  With pregnancy your blood vessels get bigger in order to pump the additional 5 litres of blood in your system without raising blood pressure.  While the doc wants to run some blood tests etc. tomorrow, it's likely that it's just one of those pregnancy-related things.

Oh, and was I under any stress... between working full-time, studying part-time, and being pregnant, no... but perhaps my plans for five loads of washing, gardening, study and baking a cake for the weekend was expecting a bit much.  As it was, I got none of these things done, as I've been suffering with the headaches or asleep to escape them... so I guess this is a SilverLining that it wasn't anything serious, Pickle is fine, but it was just my body letting me know that perhaps I need to slow down a bit.

Cheers, KangaRue

Vamping up Halloween

I love Halloween - any excuse to get dressed up in fancy dress is a good one, but unfortunately I'm to busy with uni work to get all dressed up this year.  However there is a SilverLining... tonight I have achieved something I've always wanted to do - carve my very first Halloween pumpkin.

I'm also a huge vampire fan(g), so here is my pumpkin unlit:

And in all its glory...

And from a slightly different angle.

Please let me know what you think.

Cheers, KangaRue